


our harmony, without pause

by warsfeil



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Maid Costume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 13:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: Tsukasa wears a maid outfit for an upcoming Knights event, and Leo really, really,reallywants to make sure it's thoroughly broken in. He might even stop writing a song on Tsukasa's bedsheets long enough to do so.





	our harmony, without pause

**Author's Note:**

> Careens back into the Leo Tsukinaga fandom by way of a commission that caters directly to my interests.

“I’m not,” Tsukasa says, voice muffled into sullen quiet by the heavy wood of the bathroom door, “coming out.”

Leo is, perhaps, not the absolute best at figuring out the nuances of human behavior, but even he can hear the embarrassment in Tsukasa’s voice. The door, if anything, only amplifies it, despite the distinct muffling quality.

“You have to come out!” Leo replies, his voice a high chirp. He doesn’t get up to open the door himself, partially because he’s preoccupied scribbling on Tsukasa’s sheets and partially because the ornate wood carving of door intimidates Leo just a bit. The Suou estate is _awfully_ fancy, in ways that seem specifically designed to make Leo feel out of place.

Tsukasa doesn’t reply verbally: he makes a noise, a distressed sort of consonant sound that might be a vague attempt at English. At any rate, Leo doesn’t understand the words, but he understands the emotion behind it.

“You have to!” Leo continues, without looking up. If middle C was the pillow, then he wanted to make the next mark-- “Anzu put a lot of work into it, you know!” 

Tsukasa makes another noise, long and drawn out, and it ends as uncertainly as it begins. Finally, though, as Leo finishes the measure he’s writing, the door creaks open. Leo lets his attention falter, his eyes drifting up to Tsukasa and causing the flag on his eighth note to drift far further across the sheets than he’d meant for it to, but -- 

Tsukasa is standing there in a maid dress, and Leo can’t ignore _that_.

His hands are clenched in the skirt where it modestly sweeps across his knees, and Leo can imagine that his stockings only go so far up even if he can’t actually _see_ the gap of flesh that he knows must be present underneath the skirt. Tsukasa’s cheeks are pink, his knuckles white, and he meets Leo’s eyes with a challenging air.

“Leader,” Tsukasa says, very carefully, in a measured tone that Leo knows he uses when he’s trying to seem older and more experienced, “this live is a terrible idea.”

“Sena already sold tickets for it,” Leo chirps. “And Naru-chan loves the idea! The dresses were--”

Leo hadn’t been _intending_, exactly, to rile Tsukasa up, but it’s certainly a bonus point: incandescent fury crosses over Tsukasa’s features, and he storms the few feet over to the bed to glare down at Leo. Leo presses his elbows into the bed and drops his chin into his hands and sits back to watch the way anger makes Tsukasa’s eyes light up.

“_I_ don’t like the idea!” Tsukasa snaps, and his arms come up to cross across his chest. “It isn’t fair that Narukami-senpai and I are the only ones in dresses, _I_ didn’t volunteer for this and _what are you doing to my sheets._”

“Oh,” Leo says, like it’s an afterthought. “I was writing a song for you.”

“What.” Tsukasa’s voice drops to flat, and he falters, looking down at the sheets and squinting slightly. “What song.”

“I was going to call it, ‘Our Newbie is the Cutest Maid’, or something like that!” 

“No.” 

Leo grins at Tsukasa. “You’re the cutest newbie, though! There isn’t anyone else as cute as you -- except Naru-chan, but that doesn’t count, I’m talking about the first years, and you’re the cutest first year.” Leo pauses, briefly lifting his chin back out of his hands as the thought occurs to him that-- “But I guess that’s obvious by saying “newbie”... Oh, but you could have been new to Knights but not a first year, you could have been a transfer student, so--”

“_Leader!_” Tsukasa snaps, and Leo blinks up at him, eyes wide. He tries to cut off the frantic rushing of his mind; it doesn’t entirely work, given the hypothetical scenario he’s slowly building in which Tsukasa is a transfer student instead of the precious child of Knights. He doesn’t like the scenario at all, actually; this Tsukasa is definitely preferable to any other theoretical Tsukasa.

“Su~o,” Leo replies, an automatic singsong.

“If,” Tsukasa starts; he almost falters, visibly collects himself, and then leans forward a little, the silk of his underskirt brushing against the bed, “you want to call me cute, you could simply _say_ so.”

Leo considers it, for a moment, the merits of calling Tsukasa cute versus not -- Tsukasa certainly _is_ cute, but is that the sort of thing you’re supposed to say? Ahh, is Tsukasa only angry because Leo didn’t compliment him already? Leo is absolutely terrible at these sorts of things.

“I think you’re cute,” Leo blurts, his mouth temporarily on an entirely different track than his brain. For the best, probably, because Tsukasa’s posture softens, his arms relaxing slightly. “In the dress.” Tsukasa’s posture stiffens again, and Leo reaches out, hands darting forward to grab at Tsukasa’s hips. It means Leo is left without a support, and so he tells the bed: “And the rest of the time.”

“I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” Tsukasa says, sounding absolutely exasperated, but he’s letting Leo hold onto him, letting Leo drag him closer onto the bed.

Leo tilts his head, wiggling backwards and watching as Tsukasa slides a knee up onto the bed. There’s a flash of a garter there, and Leo finds it intensely gratifying that he was right about that space between the stockings and the underwear.

“If we didn’t think you were cute,” Leo offers, “why would we all agree you should be the other maid?”

It _had_ been unanimous, but that wasn’t exactly the point: Leo thinks he would have insisted on it no matter what, and the fact that the rest of the unit agreed with him was just a nice bonus. 

“It’s embarrassing,” Tsukasa says, both knees on the bed now. He didn’t bother to put the shoes on, Leo notes, which was probably for the sake of not wearing shoes indoors but winds up being a good thing when Tsukasa carefully sits on the bed in an approximation of seiza, skirt spread out around him. 

“I understand, I understand!” Leo says, and Tsukasa’s face clearly reads that he doesn’t think Leo understands at all. “Su~o can’t say that he wants to be praised by his senpai, that’s i--”

Tsukasa hits him with the pillow that Leo had been writing on previously and nearly knocks Leo clear off the bed. Leo manages to stay put through a sheer feat of acrobatics, grabbing onto the bedsheet with both hands and one of his feet. 

“I don’t want to be praised for this sort of thing!” Tsukasa huffs, and Leo wiggles his way back up into a sitting position. Tsukasa puts the pillow down, slowly, as Leo draws nearer, like he isn’t entirely convinced he won’t still need it. Leo manages, through the practiced art of acting like he has no spine, to ooze forward and put his hands on the pillow.

“You don’t want to be praised for being cute?”

“That’s not what I-- _what did you do to my pillow_,” Tsukasa says, realization finally dawning as he looks down at the pillow between the two of them, covered in marker. The sheer breadth of Leo’s songwriting encompassed far more than Tsukasa had initially realized.

“Oh,” Leo says, using every bit of his famed ability to mimic human speech. “Well,” he continues, in a desperate bid to buy time, and then, when nothing immediately comes to mind (except a few notes that he tries to etch into his memory and save for later), he leans forward and kisses Tsukasa, instead.

Tsukasa, for a moment, does not move. Leo can see his eyes wide, because Leo isn’t the best person about closing his eyes during kissing, either; Tsukasa looks startled, and then, slightly exasperated. But after a moment his eyes drift closed; his lips part against Leo’s and the hands he has on the pillow go slack instead of tense.

Leo, as discreetly as possible, moves the pillow. That’s something that he’ll handle later. As Tsukasa’s hands drop, Leo leans forward, the kiss automatically deepening as their heads tilt into an easier position. Leo’s hands press down over Tsukasa’s, spread over the fabric of Tsukasa’s skirt, and Tsukasa relaxes into it. 

If only it was _always_ this easy, Leo thinks -- but the thought is fleeting; none of his Knights are ever easy or simple, and that’s the way it should be. Leo finally pulls back, and Tsukasa seems to have forgotten about both the pillow and the previous discussion. 

“Leader,” Tsukasa says, into the momentary quiet. He licks his lips, almost self-consciously, but his eyes meet Leo’s with that unmatched bravery that Leo has come to associate him with.

“Hmm?” Leo hums an answer, easy and noncommittal. He’s still too far forward into Tsukasa’s personal space, still close enough to see the way Tsukasa’s lashes move when he blinks and see the delicate way the pink of his flush reaches along his cheek bones all the way back to his ears. It’s high definition television, but in real life! Which is probably what the point of reality is, Leo supposes, but--

“Was all of this just an excuse to get me in a maid outfit,” Tsukasa asks, his voice carefully level.

“Oh. No! Wahahaha, you give me too much credit,” Leo laughs, leaning forward to press his head against Tsukasa’s in an affectionate nuzzle. He connects a little too hard, and Tsukasa makes a noise as he reaches up to rub at his forehead. “But I didn’t say no, because I wanted to see you in a maid dress.”

Tsukasa flusters again, grabbing at Leo’s shirt like he wants to strangle him. He doesn’t, of course. Tsukasa is too well-behaved for that, elegant and kingly, and Leo thinks there’s no one quite like him in the world. _Especially_ in the dress.

Leo leans into Tsukasa’s grasp, hitting their foreheads together again with much more finesse. Tsukasa blinks at him, and this time, his eyes shut _before_ their lips make contact. 

There’s a lot, Leo thinks, happening in this moment. There’s the fact that Tsukasa’s lips are soft against his, the fact that Tsukasa’s hands are twining into Leo’s shirt in an affectionate stranglehold. There’s an easy, contented feeling that Leo has grown to associate so strongly with Tsukasa; it builds in the way Tsukasa’s eyes light up, in the way he flushes with embarrassment, in the way he smiles and the way he moves.

Sometimes, Leo is genuinely astonished that Tsukasa could care so deeply about someone like Leo, but Leo drowns out the thought by sliding his hands up Tsukasa’s skirt until his fingers can drag across the garters.

“Ah,” Tsukasa states, eloquently, against Leo’s lips. His eyes open, and Leo feels the flutter of his eyelashes. 

“Ah-_hah_,” Leo replies. He brushes his thumbs over Tsukasa’s thighs, and then, after a brief second of consideration, makes a flash decision. He raises up onto his knees, grabbing Tsukasa’s hands and tugging him further up. 

“What are you--”

“Move further back! Or you’ll fall,” Leo says, and then waves a hand in a dismissive sort of gesture. (He’d been practicing; Izumi was objectively the best at dismissive gestures in all of Knights.) “If you broke your head open there’d be no one else to be cute in this dress, and it wouldn’t fit anyone else _and_ you’d be dead.”

“Wait, wait! Why am I dead,” Tsukasa asks, slightly urgently. He moves regardless, allowing Leo to reposition him so that he’s spread back out across the bed, propped up by his elbows. 

“You aren’t,” Leo says.

“I’m,” Tsukasa says, slowly, trying to get the grasp of the conversation and failing. “If you say so.”

“Do you think you’re dead?” Leo asks, a gentle query as he leans forward, one arm on either side of Tsukasa’s hips. Tsukasa leans back as Leo moves forward, giving way until Tsukasa is flat against the bedspread. “If you do, I can convince you that you’re not! Unless we’re both dead -- then I can’t convince you of anything, but that isn’t very likely.”

“Right,” Tsukasa says, like this clears anything up.

“If I was dead,” Leo continues, easily, “I’d have had real paper to compose on instead of your bedsheets.”

“I’m still mad about that!” 

“Don’t be,” Leo says, and then leans down, pressing his lips to the exposed portion of Tsukasa’s leg in between the garter and the underwear. “Ahh, I mean, you’re cute when you’re mad, but it’s better when you _aren’t_ mad-- you’re cute when you’re not mad, too, but--”

Tsukasa lets out a sigh that’s only about 60% mortified, and then reaches out to hike his own skirt up with a sort of determined finality born of frustration. Leo’s gaze is riveted down, and his hands still on Tsukasa’s legs as his overloaded mind tries to decide which angle he wants to take first.

“You’re not cute at all,” Tsukasa lies, and Leo knows it from the way his mouth carries a sulking pout and his cheeks still have that high, pink glow on them.

Leo thinks about arguing: he could continue to extol Tsukasa’s virtues, he could make an entire list, he could make an entire song, and he wouldn’t run out of material -- but also, there are more pressing things. He thinks it speaks to how much he likes Tsukasa, that Tsukasa would take precedence over the idea of composing an entire symphonic work, but he can’t just _say_ something like that.

So Leo will ignore the symphony in the back of his mind, and focus on Tsukasa. (And then he’ll write the symphony later.)

Leo isn’t exactly great with words at the best of times, and so he toys with a few responses before giving up and leaning in. Tsukasa’s breath hitches before Leo’s lips even meet skin, and when Leo finally presses in to the exposed portion of Tsukasa’s thigh, he can feel Tsukasa shake gently.

Tsukasa isn’t a demanding lover, at first: he’s a slow build, allowing the situation to unfold without letting on that he craves it. Leo thinks it’s a nobility thing, probably, because _he_ doesn’t have any of the same feelings. He’s very transparent in his desire to love Tsukasa, to kiss him, to see him naked and content on the bed.

Or in a maid outfit, as it was. 

Leo leans in, grabbing at the garter with his teeth and then letting it snap back against Tsukasa’s skin. The sound it makes is almost as satisfying as the squeak Tsukasa makes, and Leo looks up at him, wide-eyed and innocent.

“Did that hurt?” Leo asks.

Tsukasa mumbles something in English that Leo thinks might be a curse word, but he isn’t entirely sure. Tsukasa raises his hips a second later, when Leo doesn’t do anything further, and Leo takes it as a sign that he should continue going.

Leo presses his mouth against Tsukasa’s thigh again, a gentle motion as he reaches up to undo the garter clips. They’re a little more complex than he was initially prepared for, and it becomes very apparent in that moment that Leo Tsukinaga is _not_ the member of Knights that has anything to do with costuming, but he manages to get them in the end. The stockings slip down Tsukasa’s legs, and Tsukasa raises his thighs, slowly, bending his knees. His skirt catches across his skin, and Leo watches for a moment before he moves in closer, sliding his hands all the way up until they hit Tsukasa’s underwear, until they snag across the bodice of the dress that’s too tight for his hands to pass through. 

“You know,” Leo starts, looking up at Tsukasa, lifting his head so that his breath is only ghosting across the skin bared to him. 

“No,” Tsukasa says, immediately.

“If you-- no?” Leo’s brain screeches to a halt, unsure and unaware, and Tsukasa looks at him, lips pressed tightly together.

“If you go on another tangent now,” Tsukasa says, “when I’m -- I’m _like this_\--”

Leo considers the exact impact of the description “like this”, and then decides that he will allow Tsukasa’s veto power for the moment. “Okay,” Leo says, a long, drawn out chirp before he leans down to mouth heat across the satin of Tsukasa’s underwear. 

Tsukasa lets out a groan, long and low and hinging on slight desperation already. As much as Leo would like to keep talking, to give voice to everything that jumps into his head as a bid to ground himself, he can’t think of a real complaint when there’s clearly much better things to be doing with his mouth.

Leo leans back, and Tsukasa lets out a soft, half-strangled noise of complaint that trails off into mumbled English when Leo crawls up over Tsukasa, leaning across the bed. 

“Hey,” Leo starts, and then waits to see if he is immediately chastised. When he isn’t, he looks down at Tsukasa. “Where’s your drawer?”

“What drawer,” Tsukasa asks. He looks every bit the disheveled princess, spread out underneath Leo, and oh, _that’s_ a thought that Leo wants to file away forever and entertain whenever he’s feeling particularly lonely. Except right now Tsukasa isn’t the prince, or the princess, or the dashing knight: he’s the maid. 

“The drawer you keep all the secret things in,” Leo says, as delicately as he can manage. When Tsukasa just looks back at him, Leo punctuates the statement by letting his hand move down to cup Tsukasa’s groin, reveling in the way Tsukasa’s eyelashes flutter.

“_Oh_,” Tsukasa says, finally, and splays a hand across his face to point delicately across the room.

Leo is nothing if not quick on his feet, and it doesn’t take long before he’s back on the bed. During the brief respite, Tsukasa has inched his way into a more comfortable position, laying the correct way in the bed instead of the askew path he’d taken earlier at Leo’s behest. 

“You look beautiful,” Leo says, automatically, because it’s the first thing that flies into his head when he sees Tsukasa again. He’d only looked away for a moment, but it was enough for the image to reassert itself, fresh and clear in Leo’s mind.

“That’s,” Tsukasa says, embarrassed by the flattery even as he looks back at Leo. Leo understands parts of Tsukasa extremely well, the desire for praise without really expecting it, the deep-seated insecurity that nearly all of them carry around inside that whispers that they’re unworthy.

“It’s true,” Leo says, and then he kisses Tsukasa. Tsukasa reaches up, and his fingers seek purchase on Leo’s shoulders, on Leo’s neck, deep in Leo’s hair. Tsukasa is careful not to pull, even as wound up as he is. “Ahh, I love you, Su~o, I love you.” He says it against Tsukasa’s lips, against his chin, down to his neck; Tsukasa arcs in a beautiful line underneath him, and Leo reaches back to hike Tsukasa’s skirts up as far as they’ll go.

“Hold this,” Leo says, passing the fabric into Tsukasa’s open hand and then leaning back. It’s easy to uncap the lubricant, but harder to not squeeze the bottle too tightly when Tsukasa uses both his hands to lift the dress up around his hips. He’s hard in his underwear, pressing against the fabric and spilling out slightly, and Leo hopes they have a backup pair because this pair is going to be absolutely unwearable later, but --

For now, Leo reaches up, tugs them down just enough to entrap Tsukasa’s thighs while allowing his dick to hit the cooler air.. He tugs at Tsukasa’s hips and Tsukasa moves, easily, wiggling up into Leo’s lap. Tsukasa flinches when Leo presses fingers down underneath him, the shock of cold startling even when it’s expected, but relaxes slowly. With Tsukasa in his lap, it’s easy to lean up, to press their foreheads together. Leo doesn’t kiss Tsukasa again, yet. He watches the way everything flits across Tsukasa’s face, genuine and open, switching from mild discomfort to building pleasure as Leo fingers him open.

“Ah,” Tsukasa says, and when his eyelashes flutter this time Leo can feel it against his cheeks, feel the way Tsukasa’s hips jerk when Leo’s fingers press deep enough to find what they’re looking for. 

“Su~o~.” It’s a gentle plea for permission, and the answer is in every movement of Tsukasa’s body. He wraps his arms around Leo, presses himself up on his knees. 

Leo realizes, on a slight delay, that he has not even managed to undo his own pants yet, but it’s a minor inconvenience in terms of the entire ordeal. Tsukasa waits, but not without a certain degree of impatience, visible in the way his lips twitch at the edge like he’s trying not to smile, in the way he braces himself on Leo as Leo moves into a better position.

“Leader,” Tsukasa huffs, trying to sound serious and not quite managing. 

“Hold on, hold on, I-- wait, no, it isn’t me that should be saying that!” Leo catches himself mid-sentence, looking up at Tsukasa and catching his gaze. 

“It’s, ‘Are you ready’?” Tsukasa says, offering Leo the line, and then -- as Leo opens his mouth to ask it -- Tsukasa cuts him off with an easy, “Yes.”

Leo doesn’t question it past that. It’s slow, the way he lines himself up, the way Tsukasa slowly moves down onto his dick. They’ve done this before, but each time is different in all the ways that matter, ensuring that each individual encounter always stands out on the bright saturated backdrop of Leo’s memories. 

Tsukasa leans in, once he’s fully seated, and buries his face in Leo’s neck, in the hair that’s falling messily out of his ponytail. 

Leo waits for an eternity; for a breath. Tsukasa is warm, the fabric of the maid dress pressing like static into all of Leo’s exposed skin. 

Tsukasa breathes in, and Leo presses him down against the bed again. He stays pressed against Tsukasa, pressed _inside_ Tsukasa, and it takes them a moment to readjust to the new position, to the way Leo feels even deeper, to the way Tsukasa can arch his spine so high that the crinoline layer of his dress shifts on his body.

“Leader,” Tsukasa manages, and it’s an obvious struggle to get the words out: he shakes with the pleasure of it and with the desire for more, the deep inherent craving in his system.

Leo snaps his hips back and then presses back in, reveling in the way Tsukasa moves against the mattress. It’s hard to hear the way the cloth moves against the blankets over the sound of Tsukasa inhaling on a moan, on the sound they make when their bodies separate and meet and separate again.

Leo doesn’t speak. He would only be uttering Tsukasa’s name, over and over, incoherent declarations of love and praise that fall short of how much he wants to express in the moment, so he allows their movements to speak for them. 

“Yes,” Tsukasa says, in English and then again in Japanese like he can’t quite remember which language he should be speaking in. It doesn’t matter, because Leo understands both words as clearly as he understands the way Tsukasa’s hips jerk back against him.

When Leo reaches up into the layers of tulle to wrap his hands back around Tsukasa’s dick, Tsukasa moans, raw and louder than Leo thinks he would normally mean to.

“Leader, don’t-- if you do that, I’m--” Tsukasa says, his eyes seeking out Leo’s in a desperate plea. 

In this, Leo doesn’t give in.

“I want you to,” Leo says, and Tsukasa groans again, squeezing his eyes shut as Leo drags his hand back down Tsukasa’s cock. 

It doesn’t take much longer than that. Leo can feel it building in the way they both turn more frenzied, in the way Tsukasa’s breath catches in his throat on every exhale. Tsukasa has one leg wrapped insistently around Leo, urging him in deeper with every thrust, and when Tsukasa comes Leo can feel the way his body sends white-hot signals through every single nerve. 

It’s seeing Tsukasa that pushes Leo over the edge, more than anything -- although the physical sensation certainly helps -- because the way Tsukasa’s mouth opens, his eyes shut and his cheeks red, his bangs sticking to his forehead and the maid outfit an absolute wreck… Leo doesn’t think anyone could resist that.

Leo doesn’t see lightning, when he comes; he just sees Tsukasa, the center of an entire symphony.

“Mmmnh,” Tsukasa says in the aftermath, and he gives the grumble the vague weight of a plaintive _Leader_ even if he doesn’t quite manage the syllables correctly.

“Hmm,” Leo responds, slightly more musically and marginally less coherently.

Tsukasa’s hand lifts, unsteadily, to run through Leo’s hair. Leo’s hair is an absolute tangled mess, predictably, but Tsukasa’s fingers are gentle as he picks away the hair tie and combs out the worst of the snags.

“Leader,” Tsukasa says, finally, after a few minutes where Leo had been in deep consideration of the merits of falling asleep on Tsukasa’s chest.

“Mmm,” Leo offers, because the option of sleep is still looking really tempting.

“_You_ get to tell Narukami-senpai why we need to replace half of this outfit,” Tsukasa says, very sweetly.

“Ah,” Leo starts. He begins to push himself up, only to be stopped by the fingers in his hair, which have suddenly changed the force of their grip dramatically.

“Because this is your fault,” Tsukasa continues, airily, even if his voice is still a little breathless.

“Well,” Leo starts, and then looks at Tsukasa.

Tsukasa, with his red lips and his apron and the kiss marks leading down underneath his collar.

“Because you wanted to see it,” Tsukasa finishes, finally, and Leo knows that’s he’s lost: Tsukasa is still cute, if not cuter, like this, and Leo is willing to face even Arashi’s wrath over the subject (if perhaps not the confession of _why_ the outfit needs to be replaced).

Leo doesn’t quite commit, though: instead, he leans down and kisses Tsukasa until the fingers in his hair go soft again and they’ve both forgotten about the dangers of maid outfits.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @warsfeils, crying about leo tsukinaga, writing commissions, designing d&d campaigns, and drinking more coffee than the human body should ever be allowed to consume.


End file.
